


To Be Whole

by apiegohome



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst with a capital A, Canon Divergent, Fix It Fic, Getting Together, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, Hurt and comfort, I hope this heals you my frens, M/M, Set in kingdom hearts 3, Spoilers for Kingdom Hearts 3, Vanitas has a panic attack of sorts, Vanitas is in denial, Vanitas loves a good tantrum, canonverse, references to Sora's heart hotel, the ending slash beginning van and ven deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21885292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiegohome/pseuds/apiegohome
Summary: It begins without warning — a strange, painful affliction he could never hope to understand. That doesn’t change the fact that being separated from his other half is nowliterally, slowly killing him, and there is only so long you can be in denial about something till you’re only making a fool out of yourself.But, what he felt? Would it ever be enough? Because now he’s running out of time.And… so was Ventus.
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	To Be Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Been a hot minute!! Happy VanVen day, everyone! Hanahaki Disease was requested of me ages ago from anon over on tumblr so I decided to try a canon twist on it. I am SO sorry this took me a billion years to write. I hope everyone who celebrates the holidays has a Happy Christmas and a great New Year :)

Sleep was always something of a rare commodity for Vanitas. Not because he couldn’t — because of course he could, but because he didn’t like how it made him _feel._

When he slept, the endless aching pain he felt, along with his anger and tumultuous thoughts, were all put to rest. It was a relief. A chance of _escape_. 

And for that, it was a weakness. 

And Vanitas would be _damned_ if he was ever _weak._

But now that the majority of his previous strength had returned to him, Vanitas felt a lot more like his old self again. If only to keep the bone-deep weariness from rearing it’s ugly head, he could afford a little sleep every now and then. 

He hardly ever went back to the Keyblade Graveyard these days. The monster’s world, that had afforded him such a golden opportunity to rejuvenate himself, was now his main base of operations. 

Who would have thought that Human children’s screams would be like music to his ears. It was invigorating, their distress — a comfort to his very being. It made him feel all _‘warm and fuzzy_ ’ inside. But, unfortunately for him though, the facility itself did _not_. 

After the buffoon that was Randall had successfully been led astray, Vanitas would often disappear within the daylight hours. Hearing all those happy, _laughing_ children made him want to hurl. So, with nothing better to do, Vanitas would escape to the rooftop. 

Probably from existing in the open wasteland of the Graveyard for so long, sleeping within a confined space had always irritated him beyond words. But the vast open area of the facility’s rooftop was perfectly suitable. It also didn’t leave him vulnerable. He’d find a shaded area, mostly free of the harsh glare of the sun, and rest his back against the wall. His mask did the rest. 

But today, something felt different. The need to sleep, to rest, was nearly a constant ache. He was exhausted for no good reason, his chest tight, and his lungs... It was difficult to draw breath, which was confusing in and of itself. 

Until now, being what he was, Vanitas had never even realised he’d been capable of breathing. It seemed the surprises just kept on coming. 

What a time to be alive. 

Determined, Vanitas dematerialised his mask and lay down for once, curled on his side. Luckily, no one ever came up here. And Randall would be a fool to ever disturb him. If he could just catch a few hours of down time, he was sure he’d be back to his normal self. 

His sleep was fitful. Full of strange black and white dreams, and of people he’d never seen before. It wasn’t often that he dreamed, but he always hated every second of it. It just served to remind him that his subconscious — his very existence, would never entirely be his own. 

When he managed to awake again, the sun of this world was nearly set. He blinked his eyes open slowly, relishing in the fleeting moment that the endless pain he felt left him be. 

But then it all came rushing back. 

Several Axe Flapper’s burst into being from him, all screeching and flapping their wings in panicked circles as they adjusted to suddenly existing. Vanitas ignored them in favour of bringing himself up into a sitting position, the sharp onslaught of pain that had crashed through him dulling to its normal ache. 

He felt marginally better, but something… still seemed off. Instinctively, he dragged in a breath and instantly regret it. A stabbing pain shot through his chest, his lungs screaming. Another handful of Axe Flappers materialised, ripped from him like the abominations they were. Vanitas curled into himself and groaned, a strange impulsive pressure building up inside him. 

A fit of brutal coughs shook him to his core, the force of them burning and choking him as he fought to physically clear his lungs. When he finally managed to regain awareness, the hand clamped over his mouth came away _wet._

Confused, irritated, Vanitas tried to make sense of what he was seeing. 

Pooled in his palm and dripping through the gaps in his fingers was what appeared to be a thick, black sludge.

Disgust instantly filled him. Disgust and anger with _himself_. 

Unversed were exploding into existence all around him by this stage, but Vanitas took no notice— 

—Because there was something else there… hidden amongst the sludge. 

Carefully, he smeared some of it out of the way and took a closer look. 

Several little elongated ovals of pure white revealed themselves all innocent-like, as if it was totally normal for them to be forcing their way from out of his lungs. Vanitas dared to touch one, and even through his glove he could tell they were something soft and slightly velvety. 

Whatever they were, he had absolutely no fucking idea what to make of them. 

A sudden noise from the wall beside him distracted him enough to redirect his attention. Wiping the gunk dismissively onto the ground, Vanitas’ eyes narrowed as a Flood he recognised crept nervously closer. It was one he had created many nights ago to work with Randall, serving to harvest him more power. It was chattering insistently, obviously here to tell him something. 

Vanitas struck out, grabbing it around its neck. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got for me, hm?” 

The Flood struggled feebly as Vanitas viciously clenched his hand into a fist. With a burst of swirling darkness, the Flood dissipated, its pain and memories all flooding back. 

Vanitas closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. The familiar sensation slowly washed over him. 

By the time it settled, Vanitas was already grinning. 

“So. He’s finally here.” 

He opened his eyes to find that the dark of night had completely fallen. Finally, it was _his_ time to shine. 

-0- 

The screams, they had been so useful _._ His Unversed had even manifested in new, strange ways which fascinated him greatly. They were bigger, stronger, _crueller —_ and all the more eager to follow his commands. He himself was no longer a ghostly spectre — a faded remnant, as he had once been after his last, shameful defeat. But as he watched from the shadows while that stupid _kid_ with _his_ face and his _stupid_ friends destroyed every last one of his monsters, Vanitas realised all of his hard work had been for nothing.

Because something was _still_ missing. And he felt the absence of it like a brutally, severed limb. 

The kid and his friends defeated the very last of his Unversed and their lingering emotions all flowed back into him. As he watched them celebrate their victory, a blinding, bitter rage consumed him.

Ventus. 

As much as he hated it, he knew _that’s_ what he was missing. No matter how hard he looked, no matter how many worlds he searched through, Ventus seemed to be nowhere. Xehanort didn’t know, none of the Darknesses either, but somehow, Vanitas knew that blue-haired bitch had something to do with it. The kid with his face, too. 

His chest painfully tight, breath’s wheezing, Vanitas let the emotion and pain — the _power,_ fill him to the brim. 

It was time to take back what was rightfully his. 

Because he might not have known the whereabouts of Ventus’ body… but he sure as hell knew where his heart was. 

“Vanitas!” 

Ventus cried out to him from the confines of his prison as soon as Vanitas stepped out into view. Vanitas nearly lost all control, feral with desperation. 

“You insignificant _speck,_ ” Vanitas spat, reaching for the boy in front of him, his fingers faintly trembling. He tightened his grip around his keyblade, ready. His other half was finally so close.

“Now, you will return Ventus to me!” 

It should have been easy. The boy’s strength was nothing in comparison to his own, but right when Vanitas had him down on his knees, he choked. 

Pain like nothing he’d felt before tore through him — his lungs seized, his body shaking and spasming, and then the coughing began. Flecks of sticky black tar left his lips only to spatter against the inside of his mask. 

He doubled over, fighting for breath, and that was all the chance the do-gooders needed. 

The blue beast had him within his grip within seconds, and then he was being thrown with deadly accuracy, right through one of those stupid doors. 

Vanitas had enough sense of self-preservation to redirect himself, a portal of his own opening up for him, transporting him to somewhere he knew he’d be safe. 

On entry, he hit the ground hard; coarse, orange-brown dust billowed up around him. Still gasping, Vanitas managed to rise to his hands and knees and deactivated his helmet. Beads of sweat slid down his face and clung to the ends of his hair. There was nothing else he could do except cough and cough and _cough._

Then, he could feel it. A strange _pressure._ Something from deep inside… was slowly working itself free. 

He heaved one last time, thick, black slime dripping from his lips in long, grotesque strings. Whatever was obstructing his airway finally burst out of him, coming to rest in a goopy mangled mess of sludge between his clenched hands in the dirt. He stared down at it, panting. 

Without thinking he reached for it as he fell to the side, too exhausted to do anything more than lie next to the grotesque mess that had come out of him. He lifted the thing closer to his face. Gently, methodically, he began to wipe away more of the slime, exposing what lay underneath. 

It was a flower. 

A small, delicate thing, it’s petals were furled close together in a perfectly neat spiral, all of them a velvety, pristine white. 

Still panting quietly, Vanitas ran a hand over his mouth, clearing away the last of the gunk. 

He turned the flower over and over in the palm of his hand, thumbing at its petals and inspecting it thoroughly. It should have been impossible, but here the truth was, staring him in the face. There was simply nothing else it could possibly be _but_ a flower, but that didn’t make it any less confusing as to why he’d coughed it up. This, along with the white, oval things from earlier as well… He couldn’t possibly be mistaken.

Petals.

White flower petals. 

He was coughing up _fucking flowers._

Vanitas couldn’t breathe. His lungs were like iron weights, chest sharply rising and falling as he lay there and wheezed. 

Around him, the vast, jagged canyons of the Keyblade Graveyard loomed like silent giants, the constant wind of this world hollow and haunting. 

With no strength left to suppress it, a single, unwanted emotion pushed its way to the surface. 

A Hare Raiser burst into existence beside him, already shivering and cowering where it stood. 

And Vanitas promptly lost it. 

Void Gear was in his grip within an instant, its blade cleaving the Hare Raiser in two before it exploded back into nothingness. That should have been the end of it, but all of his carefully composed control was utterly lost. 

Floods, Bruisers and Mandrakes materialised in endless waves, his emotions literally running rampant as he slashed his keyblade through as many of them as he could reach. Distantly, he knew he was screaming himself hoarse, the pain singing along his veins — burning through to the very tips of his nerve endings. The black sludge was back, as was the spasms of his lungs. The petals were coming more frequently now, littering the ground around him like fallen snow, splatters of inky black marring them. 

With a harsh clatter, Void Gear hit the ground at his feet, his arms hanging numb and useless at his sides. He couldn’t draw in enough breath to scream anymore, his head swimming, vision spotting black around the edges. 

“Enough…” Vanitas gasped, allowing what remained of the Unversed surrounding him to escape. They ran from him as he fell to his knees, disappearing amongst the endless canyons and plains of rusted keyblades. 

The darkness was dragging him under, and with one last, pitiful gasp, Vanitas gave in. 

-0- 

_“—nitas…”_

_“Vani… tas…”_

Someone… was calling him. 

_“—ake up…”_

Someone… familiar. 

Someone he… _desperately_ needed to— 

“Vanitas!” 

A sharp kick to his ribs had Vanitas violently jolting back into consciousness. 

Xehanort stood over him with his hands held behind his back while he waited impatiently for Vanitas to rise to his feet and acknowledge him. Nothing could disguise the look of cold disdain in his eyes. 

Vanitas swiftly hid his confusion behind his mask. He hadn’t heard Xehanort calling him… 

Instead, he could’ve sworn it was— 

“Do I need to assign one of the other Darknesses to assist you in your mission?” 

Vanitas grit his teeth, glaring with such hatred at Xehanort he half-expected his eyes might burn red-hot through his mask. 

This wasn’t the first instance of his ‘Master’ threatening him with a babysitter. 

“I’m working on it.” 

Xehanort narrowed his eyes. “Clearly.” 

Vanitas opened his mouth, ready to antagonise Xehanort further with something along the lines of ‘don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?’ when Xehanort’s focus shifted to the ground between their feet. 

Vanitas looked down too, realising what had caught Xehanort’s attention in an instant. 

Without a word, Xehanort leant down, pinching what remained of the white flower between his thumb and forefinger. Vanitas stayed silent, watching Xehanort twist the wilted, bruised flower from side to side, scrutinising it from every angle. He came to some sort of realisation fairly quickly, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked up at Vanitas, pinning him to the spot. 

“So. Even a being wholly of darkness can never be immune to the machinations of the light.” 

Without fanfare, Xehanort let the flower fall back into the dirt before crushing it beneath his heel. His eyes never left Vanitas, his expression twisted. 

“What a bitter disappointment you have been.” 

Vanitas clenched his fists, but held his tongue. He didn’t understand how Xehanort somehow knew the flower was connected to him, but there was no way he was about to ask for answers. He had his pride. He knew his worth. He wouldn’t give the foolish old man the satisfaction. 

“Is that all, _Master?”_

If Xehanort was irritated by Vanitas’ tone he chose not to show it. Instead, he raised his arm out to the side and summoned a dark portal. 

“Sora and his companions, along with Master Aqua are in Radiant Garden. Do not neglect the task I have given you.” 

Without a backwards glance, Xehanort stepped into the portal. The darkness eagerly engulfed him, the portal closing in on itself leaving Vanitas on his own once more. 

So. The brat and his barnyard animal friends were in Radiant Garden. And of _course_ the pathetic _Master_ Aqua, being the weakling that she was, would be cosying up to them. Probably needed them around cause she was too weak to handle anything on her lonesome anymore. 

Vanitas snorted at the thought, until another, more logical reason came to him. 

Possibly, _logically,_ she was with them because... she was leading them to— 

All at once, his lungs squeezed and held in his chest, the breath punched from him. Thick, bitter liquid rapidly pooled in his mouth. 

Vanitas removed his helmet just as the next spasm hit, stained petals and black sludge alike escaping him in ever increasing amounts. His stomach and lungs heaved with it, eyes and nose watering and stinging. His body starved of oxygen fought for it, jerking and shaking beyond his control.

It wasn’t long before he found himself braced on his hands and knees again. Endless Unversed rallied around him, shrieking and panicking as their very existence confused and frightened them. Vanitas ignored them all.

Whatever this… _affliction_ was, it was obvious it was becoming worse. At this point, with his patience already beyond thin, it was safe to assume he was dangerously close to clawing his own lungs out just to make it _stop._

Had something, or _someone,_ somehow managed to poison him? Or was it some kind of infectious disease that only manifested within that monster’s world? He had spent a lot of time there… with his mask removed, more times than he cared to remember. 

Ever since he’d seen a flicker of Ventus’ heart inside of that kid — their lingering connection so _goddamn close_ , the painful spasms in his lungs had only become more frequent. There was no way to tell if there was a connection there, though. But after what Xehanort had said, it wasn’t hard to imagine his useless other half had something to do with it. 

Regardless of the how or why, all he could do in that moment was lie there wheezing and gasping for breath, waiting for the fit to end. 

That wasn’t even the worst of it, either. What actually stung the most was that he was utterly powerless to stop it.

The spasms finally eased and Vanitas carefully sucked in some slow, measured breaths. What remained of the black goop and petals still gurgled up his throat. 

Xehanort’s parting words rung in his ears like a curse. Constant — _incessant_ , inducing some kind of feverish desperation within him. Vanitas _knew_ he didn’t have the time to deal with this. 

If the do-gooders reached Ventus before he did… the consequences would be irreversible. 

He couldn’t let that happen — no matter the cost. 

Gathering the last of his strength, Vanitas raised one of his arms, hand outstretched. A dark portal seamlessly opened before him, inches from his trembling fingers. 

He crawled. Crawled like it was the last thing he’d ever do. And in a way, it kind of was.

His very existence… was in jeopardy. 

He wasn’t _weak. Never_ would he ever give in. No matter what Xehanort would have him believe.

He wanted to break Aqua with his own two hands — wanted to stab his keyblade right through that stupid kid’s disgustingly light-filled heart. 

He was sick of it all — the constant pain and the anguish — the very existence of Light and all who were fortunate enough to be apart of it. 

He wanted… 

Wanted to end it _all._

-0-

Then, pain. 

And darkness. 

It consumes him. Burning from the inside out. 

A voice calls to him...

Then— 

Light. 

-0-

Vanitas blinked his eyes open before slamming them shut again. The sun was burning high above him, his surroundings bathed in blinding light. 

Strange sounds assaulted his senses next. The distant cries of birds wheeling overhead, accompanied by the quiet back and forth of ocean waves kissing the shore. 

Groaning, covering his eyes, Vanitas slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. The earth beneath him was soft yet firm, almost seeming to move with him. It was unlike anything he could ever remember feeling before. 

_Sand_ — his mind supplied, as he grabbed a handful of the tiny golden grains he was seated in and let them slip through his fingers. 

Large, swaying palm trees framed the blue sky above him, and with one glance at their golden, star-shaped fruit, Vanitas’ eyes widened in recognition. 

He knew this place. 

He had been here before. 

“You have.” 

Vanitas froze. One hand still fisted deep within the sand, anchoring him. 

This… couldn’t be real. Because… how could _he_ be here? 

As quickly as he’d felt it wash over him, Vanitas crushed all lingering hope, shrewd suspicion taking its place. 

“What is this?” He said to the waves lapping gently at his booted feet. “Why am I dreaming of this place?” 

A pause, and Vanitas waited, both hoping and dreading of hearing that voice so close again. 

“It’s your subconscious. Or I should say… _our_ subconscious.” 

Vanitas sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Ventus?” 

There was no answer. 

“...It’s you, isn’t it?” 

Ever so slowly, Vanitas began turning his head to look behind him. Only then did he notice his hair brushing along his shoulders, his mask nowhere in sight. 

And there, no more than a few paces behind him, was the one person he’d been so nauseatingly desperate to find. 

Ventus, with his familiar, windswept hair and piercing blue eyes, smiled softly as Vanitas finally caught sight of him. There was a nervous lilt to his lips, a deep sadness evident in his face.

Vanitas’ eyes stung. 

“You…” 

In a flurry of sand, Vanitas was standing. He was halfway to Ventus before he even realised he was moving. 

“You—” He spat again, speaking through his clenched teeth. “—Left me. All ALONE.” 

It didn’t matter what time he was referring to. Maybe, all of them. Because it didn’t make a single difference in the end that Ventus was _always_ leaving him, and Vanitas felt like he was forever chasing after. 

Closing the distance within seconds, Vanitas didn’t hesitate. He reached for Ventus, unsure of what he would do with him once he had him within his grasp. But he still needed to touch — to _capture him_ all the same. 

Ventus mirrored him. He reached for Vanitas’ hand, interlacing their fingers. 

Vanitas was stunned. A sense of peace flowed into him. For once, he wasn’t in pain. 

It left him utterly speechless. And confused. 

Ventus smiled slightly and squeezed his hand. 

“You need to stay calm, okay? Or the connection will break.” 

Vanitas said nothing. He searched Ventus’ eyes, looking for answers. Their fingers were still tangled loosely together between them. Vanitas fleetingly wished he wasn’t wearing his gloves. 

“Vanitas, you have to listen to me,” Ventus began quietly. “I know what’s happening to you. I can feel it. Even in my sleep.” 

Overhead, the sun beat down on them relentlessly, even if Vanitas couldn’t feel it’s warmth. Idly, he realised that standing this close to Ventus, he was easily taller than him. But how was that possible? When they… were supposed to be one and the same? Vanitas narrowed his eyes.

“And what _is_ happening to me, oh high and mighty one?” 

Ventus wasn’t smiling anymore. 

“You’re dying.” 

Vanitas wanted to deny it, to fight Ventus at every turn, but somehow he already knew it was the truth. Even knowing that, he still felt compelled to argue. 

“Impossible,” He snorted. “Because then that would mean—” 

“Yeah. It does.” 

Ventus, slowly, as if unsure of whether Vanitas would allow it, brought their clasped hands up to his own chest. 

“It’s… happening to me, too.” 

Vanitas’ eyes were drawn to where the back of his hand was now pressed to Ventus’ chest. He could feel Ventus’ heartbeat there — constant, steady, sure. 

All at once, his mouth watered. A strange hunger building within. 

He was so close. 

_So. Close._

His eyes flicked back up to Ventus’ lips. 

“Van…?” 

Vanitas blinked, and the spell was broken. 

“You don’t remember our time here, do you? You’d understand then.” 

His anger flaring, Vanitas pulled himself free. Instantly, the pain flooded back in. Ventus didn’t follow after him. 

“So tell me already! I hate these stupid guessing ga—!”

Without warning, the ground beneath their feet trembled violently. The very world around them flickered like a candle, fading in and out of shadow. Great, cavernous cracks in the earth began opening up, swallowing everything within their path. 

Wide-eyed, Ventus looked up at the sky in a panic as he tried to keep his balance. 

“The connection is breaking!” 

He looked to Vanitas desperately and reached out for him, but it was already too late. Vanitas scrabbled at the cascade of endless sand now surrounding him on all sides, even as he knew it was futile. Ventus was nearly out of sight, far far above him. 

“Vanitas, you need to find me! Find my body — before it’s too late!”

Ventus was only just still visible amongst the chaos. Vanitas couldn’t look away from him, falling further and further down into the darkness. 

And then, everything returned to black. 

-0- 

Vanitas awoke to excruciating pain. 

His lungs screamed for release, his mouth full of a horribly familiar, bitter, thick liquid. He rolled to the side and felt his stomach heave. He couldn’t draw in a single breath, his entire body convulsing as wave after wave of gut-wrenching pain rattled him to his core. 

“ _Shh,_ let it happen,” someone said to him from close by. Vanitas didn’t even have the strength to be alarmed, the pain so frightfully overwhelming. He couldn’t even open his eyes. 

He dozed in and out of consciousness for what felt like a long while, faintly aware of the constant presence beside him. It couldn’t possibly be anyone who knew him for what he was, so the only conclusion he could come to was that a stranger had found him in whichever world he had managed to fall into. 

Eventually, breathing wasn’t such an all-consuming effort anymore. Vanitas wearily opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was in a house of some sort, everything around him undoubtedly unfamiliar. High ceilings. Rough, wooden walls. A rugged stone fireplace, lit and well-kept. From somewhere behind him, he could hear someone moving around, most likely the person who had found him passed out on some street somewhere. 

He wanted— no, _needed_ to get away, but just trying to leverage himself up into a sitting position was nigh unto impossible. The only thing he could manage was to get his elbows planted into the soft mattress beneath him for half a second before his body gave out on him. He flopped back down hard, his breaths shallow and laboured. Luckily, the bedding beneath him was forgiving. 

Resigned to staying a little longer, Vanitas sluggishly turned onto his side. His lungs protested, a barrage of sharp coughs escaping him while a smattering of stained petals dribbled down the side of his face. He didn’t bother with wiping them away. 

How was he supposed to find Ventus if he was too weak to even move? 

He remembered everything of what he had dreamt of in his subconscious. Remembered Ventus calling out to him… begging him to find him. 

And if this _stupid_ , strange sickness was affecting Ventus too — even while he slept, would it already be too late?

How long had he been here? Wasting _time?_

A warm, wet cloth was suddenly being dragged along the side of his face, just below his lips, and Vanitas instinctively jerked away, his eyes flying open. 

A young woman with vivid green eyes was seated in a chair beside him. She moved further away and raised her hands, the universal sign for meaning no harm. 

“You mustn’t move too much, otherwise you’ll have another fit.” 

Slowly, she lowered her hands, placing the soiled cloth back into a small bowl resting in her lap. Seeing Vanitas still tense and untrusting of her, the woman gave him an amused smile. 

“You can relax, I won’t hurt you. I would have had plenty of opportunity before now.” 

Vanitas supposed that was true. Begrudgingly, he forced himself to relax back into the soft, warm bedding. His breathing began to slow and even out. It was only then he realised that he was no longer wearing his Organisation coat, which could only mean… this woman had removed it. Surely that meant she didn’t know of his affiliations, then. Otherwise, why would she help him? 

Stupid do-gooders. 

“Are you hungry?” The woman asked him softly, tilting her head in question. Vanitas watched her long, plaited hair move with her, the pink bow holding it all together flopping to one side. 

“Why did you help me?” He asked her instead. “I could be an enemy.” 

The woman hummed, as if in thought, but she was still calmly smiling. 

“I don’t think so. I can sense you’re a good person.”

Vanitas… didn’t know what to say to that. He searched the woman’s face with narrowed eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The woman just kept on smiling. It had to be a joke. 

A good person? _Him?_

This woman was obviously, foolishly naive. It was going to get her into trouble one day. 

Vanitas chose to ignore it. Thinking of Ventus waiting for him, it was time to move things along. 

“This… illness. Do you know how to cure it?” 

Sure, the woman was a fool, but she could still be of some use. 

The woman in question lowered her eyes to the bowl in her lap, the smile disappearing from her face. 

“Yes… and no. If only it was that simple.” 

Vanitas opened his mouth to demand she make sense when the woman reached into the bowl in her lap and plucked something from it. Without a word she held it out for him to see. 

It was a flower. One of _his_ flowers. She had washed it in water, no trace left of any of the black muck. 

“A Gardenia. Beautiful. The one you love must be very pure of heart.” 

Vanitas coughed weakly, shifting uncomfortably in his sheets. 

“What… what are you talking about?” 

She looked up at him, the flower still resting innocently in the centre of her palm. 

“What you are suffering from. The Hanahaki illness. It manifests from a broken heart… and unrequited love.” 

“But… my hearts been broken into pieces before,” Vanitas argued, feeling frustrated. Yes, he was finally getting answers, but they were useless to him if he couldn’t understand them. What she was saying just didn’t make _sense._

Gently, the woman placed the flower back into the bowl. She was silent a moment, as if finding the right words. 

“This is another kind of heartbreak.” She looked him in the eyes again, somber. 

“I sense great loss and grief in you. So much pain.” 

There were only a handful of times throughout his life where Vanitas had ever felt genuine fear. Right at this very moment, every other instance paled in comparison. 

How… How did this woman know this? He couldn’t stand the way she was looking at him, like he was some kind of open book. 

“How do I fix it? Tell me!” 

His emotions left unchecked, a single Unversed materialised out of the void. Vanitas tensed, expecting the woman to scream and run at the sight of it, but she did neither of those things. 

The Hare Raiser was shivering where it stood, frightened and unsure. Vanitas willed it closer, intent on getting his hands around its neck. 

The woman said nothing at all as she quietly moved the bowl in her lap to the small, wooden table beside her. She leant down, beckoning with one hand.

The Hare Raiser, (much to Vanitas’ annoyance), eagerly scampered towards the woman without any sense of self-preservation at all. 

She scooped it up into her arms as if it was just any other lost, woodland animal, settling it carefully in her lap. The Hare Raiser seemed overjoyed, even more so when the woman began gently stroking its head between its long, floppy ears. Vanitas honestly didn’t know whether to be astounded or incensed. 

“If there is any chance at all, you must find the one you love and make peace with them.” The woman said, her eyes so incredibly sad. “But you must hurry. The flowers growing inside of you are nearly at full bloom.” 

Vanitas struggled against the harsh pressure building within his chest. Another fit was impending, reactive to the panic setting in. 

“You’re not making any sense! I can’t _feel_ love! It’s impossible!” He wheezed, knuckles white, fingers tearing at the sheets just to maintain some control.

“I don’t love anyone!” 

An Unversed burst into existence, then another, and another. Floods and shrieking Axe Flappers, and droves of quivering Hare Raisers filled the small room to capacity as Vanitas coughed over and over. More white petals, more disgusting black tar. 

The woman didn’t move from her seat, still calm in amongst the chaos all around her. Vanitas fought to regain control, one hand grasping at his chest uselessly.

The woman just watched over him quietly, the Hare Raiser in her lap watching too. 

“You may truly believe that…” She murmured to him, once the fit was finally over.

“But the Hanahaki never lies.”

-0- 

It was a foreign concept to Vanitas, not having to resort to violence or coercion to get what he wanted. He didn’t understand the concept of ‘asking for help’, nor of receiving it, either. 

So, when the woman handed him a small bag containing several small vials of much-coveted Elixir, Vanitas was well and truly speechless. He narrowed his eyes at her. He couldn’t remember ever encountering someone so astoundingly _dumb._

She could even give Ventus a run for his money. 

The woman just smiled in the face of his confusion. She still held the same Hare Raiser, now cradled gently in her arms as they stood by the cottage’s front door. Vanitas hadn’t been able to build up the nerve to pluck the traitorous Unversed from her grasp, but the same couldn’t be said for the rest of them. As soon as he’d had the strength, he’d opened a small portal and flung them all into the void. 

“These will only stave off your symptoms for so long.” The woman told him, pressing the pouch full of Elixirs into his hands. “There’s no time to waste.” 

Vanitas met her eyes. 

“What are you getting out of this? There has to be something.” 

The woman’s expression said she knew more than she was letting on. 

“I have a feeling we’ll be meeting again.” 

As much as he didn’t like the connotations of that, he knew without a doubt that he owed her some kind of debt. He’d never been indebted to anyone. It half-made him want to put an end to her. Made him wish he’d taken the rest of the Elixir by force as soon as the first vial had touched his lips. 

In the end he left without saying anything. With the Elixir pulsing new strength through his veins, he knew he had to hurry before the Hanahaki had a chance to take hold of him again. 

Finding Master Aqua and her little band of misfits was going to be a piece of cake. 

-0-

Finally. 

_Finally._

_Ventus was within reach._

Having tailed them successfully, Vanitas hid himself and watched as Master Aqua led her stupid entourage inside what had formally been known as Castle Oblivion. 

Very sneaky. No one, not even Xehanort had considered such a hiding place. 

The boy and his pets hung back while Aqua continued moving forward, approaching the sleeping Ventus alone. 

“What… is this?” Aqua said, her voice carrying in the silence. 

It was only then that Vanitas realised something wasn’t right. 

Spread out around Ventus, resting in his lap and on the throne-like chair he was slumped in, were flowers. Dead, wilted, flowers. 

“They’re Lilies…” Aqua murmured. “ _Black_ Lilies.” 

From a distance, Vanitas could just make out Ventus’ heaving chest as he struggled to breathe; his face was twisted in pain, even as he kept sleeping. 

Vanitas felt his own chest clench at the sight, another vial of Elixir already in his hand. 

He recalled what the woman had told him, and what Ventus had told him about dying, too. But if Ventus was suffering from the same illness… that would mean — he was in love with someone. Ventus was in _love_ with someone, _and_ it was unrequited. 

And now, it was killing him. 

Vanitas tipped vial after vial of Elixir into his mouth, his strength building along with his rage. Just as he replaced his mask, Aqua reached out to Ventus, and Vanitas couldn’t have held himself back if he tried. 

“Don’t touch him!” 

They all spun to look at him with wide eyes as he leapt from his vantage point, touching down on the floor behind them. 

Vanitas ignored them all except Aqua, Void Gear materialising at his side. Aqua fell into her own battle stance, her keyblade already raised in front of her. 

“You! You’re responsible for this, I just know it!” 

Vanitas clenched his teeth. Of _course_ she would blame him. But, what did she know? She knew _nothing._

Their keyblades clashed again and again, Vanitas easily gaining the upper hand. He couldn’t help his feral grin as she tired easily. She was _so_ weak, disgustingly so. He was sure Ventus would be upset with him for putting her down, but… he didn’t have to know. 

With a resounding thud, Master Aqua hit the floor hard. She lay still, unmoving, her keyblade skittering away across the polished stone. The barrier she’d placed around Ventus swiftly fell. 

Vanitas ran for him, no thought to how desperate he probably looked in that moment. 

It had been so long. 

_Too Long._

With trembling fingers, he brushed the wilted Lilies off of Ventus and onto the floor. 

“Wake up, you idiot…” He grasped Ventus by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. “ _Come on!_ ” 

Ventus was warm to the touch, his head lolling gently to the side. He still looked pained, his breaths shallow and uneven. 

“Get away from him!” 

Vanitas turned, shielding Ventus with his body. Void Gear was already summoned and raised in front of him. The boy charging towards him didn’t falter, not until Vanitas pointed his keyblade directly at him. It was only then that he could feel his strength beginning to fade. 

He was out of Elixir. And it was already becoming a struggle to breathe. 

“Give Ventus.. his heart back… _Now!”_

Sora, the idiot-boy with his face, and his ridiculous duck companion, both went on the defence, readying themselves to attack. The goofy looking dog wasn’t with them, having earlier rushed to Aqua’s side. 

“Not before I take you down!” Sora yelled, raising his keyblade to strike Void Gear out of Vanitas’ grasp. It shouldn’t have been that easy, but Vanitas was weakening fast. He could already feel the bile once again rising up his throat. 

If they weren't going to listen to him, there was only one thing he could think of that would definitely make them stop. 

Vanitas deactivated his mask, his face bare for everyone present to see. Sora and the duck both gasped and leapt backwards a few steps. The goofy dog was making some sort of ruckus behind them but Vanitas' attention was sharply pulled elsewhere. Ventus wheezed and coughed, the colour draining from his face. Vanitas couldn't be sure of what expression his face was making, but he knew it couldn't be good. There was no point in explaining to these twerps, neither did he care to. They had maybe minutes to spare, the flowers filling both their lungs almost at full bloom. Gently, he gathered Ventus in his arms, holding him as close as possible without restricting his breathing further.

He'd never felt so vulnerable; Ventus dying right before his eyes. And there was nothing he could do to save him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Ventus!" 

He didn't want this - _never_ had he wanted this. **** ~~~~

Having remained silent all this time, Sora took that moment to timidly step forward. 

"You… care about him?"

Vanitas raised his head to glare at him. 

"Of course I do. He’s my…"

He couldn't call Ventus his brother. Because that was not what they were. He hadn't been born like Ventus had, he'd been created. Sifted apart, nice and neat, and reassembled into two... 

Vanitas studied Ventus' face. 

"He’s my other half. The only reason why I even exist. He’s… Everything."

Sora frowned, his confusion evident. Slowly, he lowered his keyblade. 

"But you… you’ve wanted to hurt him." 

"Why would I?" Vanitas snapped. "We… We were always meant to be together! We should have never been torn apart!"

Vanitas looked back down at Ventus, silently begging with every fibre of his being that he would just open his eyes already. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to be _whole_ again.

"I can’t... live without him." 

"Don't listen to him, Sora! It's a trick!" The duck screeched, brandishing his sceptre back and forth. Sora just looked at him in surprise, clearly unsure.

"Gawrsh, I dunno, Sora," the goofy dog spoke up. "We been tricked by these fellas before."

In the dogs arms, Aqua began to stir. She sat up slowly, cradling her head.

Sora vanished his keyblade altogether, one of his hands rising to clutch at his chest.

"I know, but... There’s something in here… telling me it’s okay."

Gaining her bearings, Aqua took in the scene in front of her. She gasped quietly. "Could it be..." 

Sora closed his eyes, his face scrunched in concentration. Slowly but surely, he began to glow. 

All at once there was a blinding, white light, and Vanitas was hit with a wave of emotion that wasn't his own. Memories upon memories played out in front of him— all of him and Ventus, together in Sora's heart. They had become friends, until naturally becoming closer. Vanitas had yearned for more, and Ventus had happily given him everything he ever could have wanted. 

Ventus was in love with him. And the woman had been right. Because Vanitas knew in that moment that he loved Ventus, too. 

But then again, how could he _not?_ Ventus had always been the better half of them. 

When the light finally faded, Ventus was blinking sleepily up at him. It took him a moment to focus, but as soon as he saw who was holding him, a beautiful soft smile lit up his entire face. His breathing was already evening out, and Vanitas could feel it, too. The Hanahaki's grip on them both was at an end.

It was finally, _finally_ over.

Ventus lifted one of his hands, gently bringing it to rest against Vanitas' cheek.

"Van… You did it. We can be... one again."

Vanitas was rendered speechless, as soon as Ventus' hand made contact with his face. At the slightest touch, Vanitas found he was curiously free of pain.

It felt like he'd _never_ felt anything _but_ pain, but now... reunited with his other half, he felt completely at peace.

At least he did, until he noticed that Sora and his gang had all crowded close around them. 

"So, hang on." Sora said. "Does this mean you're on our side now?"

Pulling Ventus in closer, Vanitas summoned a small portal beneath them. Without so much as a single word, they fell through, landing on soft, cool grass. 

Vanitas lay down, taking in the vast sky of stars above them. 

"That wasn’t very nice, Vanitas." Ventus murmured, laying down in the grass beside him. Vanitas snorted. 

"'Think I care? His stupid voice annoys me."

Vanitas rolled onto his side and Ventus followed suit. Hesitantly, he gave Ventus a crooked smile. 

"Wait till they stop freaking out and realise we’re still on world."

Ventus huffed out a laugh, his blue eyes shining brightly through the dark. 

"I just woke up and you’re already getting me into trouble." 

They fell silent after that. Ventus took the opportunity to slide his hand into Vanitas' own, resting palm up in the grass between them. The creeping anxiety Vanitas hadn't even realised was there, instantly fell away. 

Ventus cleared his throat.

"Do you remember...?"

Vanitas knew what he was asking. Gently, he squeezed Ventus' hand. 

"I do. But how.. aren’t we 'together'? I thought I would…" 

"Disappear?" 

Ventus smiled. He released Vanitas' hand and rolled onto his back again. He looked up at the stars, his words drifting softly between them. 

"It's because neither of us is just 'light', or just 'darkness'. We get to choose who we are now... We're free." 

Vanitas silently turned Ventus' words over in his head. It didn't really make sense to him, but maybe in time, Ventus could help him understand. 

Vanitas rolled onto his back as well, seeking out Ventus' hand again. 

"As long as we're always together. That's all I want."

Ventus laced their fingers together, the warmth of his palm wonderfully soothing. Vanitas never wanted to let go. 

"Now that our hearts have come together again, we always will be. Everything’s going to be okay from now on." 

Vanitas looked up at the stars. He felt the fullness in his chest, and the power of this strange new emotion sweeping through him. He had always thought that his pain had brought him strength, but with Ventus by his side again, it was such a relief to find that strength could manifest in much better ways. He held Ventus' hand a little tighter. 

Even with their future still mostly uncertain, somehow he just knew that Ventus was right. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note about Vanitas’ characterisation in this fic. I wanted to keep his personality as true to how he is in the games as possible. As much as I love him, Vanitas is not a good guy. So how he acts and how he speaks can’t be misinterpreted. I like to think that he genuinely cares about Ven, but their relationship would start off in an unhealthy light until Ven would be able to gently guide him into being a better person. At this stage, he’s never known kindness, except to use it to his advantage. He’s got a lot of growing to do and Ven would be the perfect balance for that, and that’s why I love them!!


End file.
